Uni (A Larry Stylinson Story) ✅

Another Shit Year

Louis' Point of View

My first thought when I walked into my new dorm was: Fuck. They had put me with the fucking freshers. Damn it. I didn't even have to look at the building name to know that my dorm was filled to the brim with first-year students--their overly-excited faces and overly chatty voices said it all. 

I could just imagine all of the craziness that was to follow. The late nights, the never-ending dorm parties, the freshman constantly asking me to buy them alcohol or help them find a fake. Here in the states, the legal drinking age is 21, so none of the underclassmen are old enough to go to bars or even buy drinks. All it did was really hype up the whole drinking thing, if you ask me. But even more importantly, it created a lot of noise and a lot of bother for people like me who just want to stay inside and not deal with others.  

I wasn't supposed to end up here in the freshman dorms. That was never the plan. I'm a junior for Christ's sake. I deserve to live in upperclassmen housing or a suite. But of course, that didn't work out for me. It never does. The kids in my housing group had ditched me at the last second to live off campus, and by the time I chose a room alone, there was nothing left. 

Oh well. Nothing like shit luck to start off the semester. Even if I did have semi- decent housing, free of the pesty 18 year old wannabes, I still wouldn't be happy. I hated going to NYU. I hated the city, I hated the people, and I hated my professors. It was all really just a big shit show--the Music and Performing Arts school was nothing like I expected it to be. And I wanted out, but I tried to transfer last semester and they wouldn't accept my credits. So here I stay. 

As I take the stairs to the third floor -- the elevator was being used by parents who were hauling their kids stuff -- I saw two brunettes walk down the hall. One had long, curly hair and the other a short cut. Both were cute, but curly was cuter. Just they wait, I thought. Soon they'll see how it really is here. 

I walked over to room 302 and turned the key, opening it to find a tiny grey room with one window. Perfect. Depressing and solitary. Just how I like it. I plopped my duffel bag on the bed and took out a few of my necessities. Jeans, shirts, underwear, toiletries. I had to go to Target or Walmart to buy the rest-- like the bedspread and a rug and a lamp. 

I grabbed my wallet and began heading out--and that's when I heard it. Curly and straight hair were in the hallway, talking, and they had British and Irish accents.....